:163 
Dpy 1 



Pebts: a Drama in 



One Act: by Margaret 
Searle 

In the Vassar Series of Plays 
Edited by Gertrude Buck 



Samuel French: Publisher 

28-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York 

LONDON 

Samuel French, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street, Strand 
PRICE THIRTY-FIVE CENTS 



Bad Debts: a Drama in 
One Act: by Margaret fx^A^:^ 
Searle 



In the Vassar Series of Plays 
Edited by Gertrude Buck 



Samuel French: Publisher 

28-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York 



LONDON 



Samuel French, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street, Strand 






^ ,<A«^ 



Gjpyright, 1921, BY Samuel French 
All Rights Reserved 

"BAD DEBTS" is fully protected by copyright, and all 
rights are reserved. 

Permission to act, to read publicly, or to make use of 
this play must be obtained from Samuel French, 28-30 
West 3Sth Street, New York. 

It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a roy- 
alty of five dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel 
French one week before the date when the play is given. 

Professional rates quoted on application. 

Whenever this play is produced the following^ notice 
must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for 
the play: "Produced by special arrangement v/ith Samuel 
French of New York." 



©CI.D 59537 

DEC 3171 



A^tj \ 



THE VASSAR SERIES OF PLAYS 

Every play in this series has been written by a 
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In recent years there has been an increasing de- 

3 



4 THE VASSAR SERIES OF PLAYS 

mand for well- written, dramatically effective one-act 
plays, suitable for production by semi-professional 
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All the plays in this series are protected by copy- 
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date of the performance. 



PRODUCING THE PLAY 

"Bad Debts" is primarily a psychological play, re- 
inforced by strong dramatic action at the close. 
Chester's entrance is breezy and buoyant, — that of 
the bluffer to whom his role has become second na- 
ture. But his reply to Janet's question about the 
money he so airily refers to as "tied up" — "And 
what do you know about such things, my girl?" — 
with its stress on his masculine superiority, indicates 
uneasiness ; and this is the first direct presentation 
of the tension which grows from, this point to the 
end. Chester's manner throug'li this passage must 
suggest that his disturbance is due to some deeper 
source than his daughter's judgment of him; and 
this suggestion must flash into startling certainty 
with his reaction to the word "failure" : "Hold that 
back ! For God's sake, stop quick !" This outbreak 
is the first of three passages of prime importance in 
his carrying and heightening of the tensio^i ; — pass- 
ages which must, by the force and conviction of the 
acting, point clearly forward to some explanation of 
the mystery whose presence they make manifest. 

With Bannister's appearance the mention of Blair 
Kenfield is not to be averted, and Chester ardently 
opposes the idea of Blair's success ; but when the 
article proving Blair's genius is found, Chester's last 
chance of avoiding the truth vanishes, and he col- 
lapses under the knowledge forced upon him. His 
utter abandonment is not purely horror and remorse, 
however; it is partly a relief in throwing off the 
strain of pretence, with perhaps a touch, also, of the 

5 



€ BAD DEBTS 

egotist's luxuriating in self-abasement. This is the 
second passage by which the tension is strongly car- 
ried forward. The audience must feel that some- 
thing unexplained lies behind, even before this feel- 
ing is voiced by Bannister's bewildered question — 
"What has Blair Kenfield got to do v/ith it ?" 

Norton's entrance, postponing the answer to this 
question, carries the tension over momentarily to his 
own appalling situation ; but it swings back to Ches- 
ter as he conceives the hope of escape from his mis- 
ery, and rises sharply to the point where he plays 
his last card by revealing the manner of Blair's death. 
This is the third high passage in Chester's part, and 
perhaps the m.ost difficult to present, for in telling his 
story he almost forgets his urgent motive, and sinks 
back into the memory now so much more terrible 
than before. But the thought of his deadly weari- 
ness brings him suddenly again to the figiit for es- 
cape, and this dramatic struggle carries the play to 
its highest point, where the tension is snapped by 
Norton's sudden insight and decision. Nothing is 
left for Chester but to return to his old "game," and 
he does so automatically with his wife's entrance, 
betraying not at all to her, and only slightly to the 
audience, the exhaustion and despair under the bluf- 
fing which must now go on until his death. 

In relation to the tension, Janet is the character 
next in importance to Chester, for it is she who must 
first suggest and emphasize it. Seeking a cause for 
her lover's postponement of their marriage, she 
pitches at once upon her father's preposterous arro- 
gance, and then carries the inquiry on still further 
into the cause for this trait itself : — "Mother, have 
you ever thought that this peculiarity must have 
something tragic at the bottom of it ?" Her search- 
ing tone and pondering look must mark this idea as 
a forecast of the action of the play. A little later, 



BAD DEBTS j 

as she describes the eilect upon her father of watch- 
ing Macbeth's fea^r of failure: — "But if you could 
have seen Father's face! There was something 

about it " and "talking fast Hke a man walks 

when he's afraid to look behind him" — she must so 
imaginatively and vividly present the strangeness of 
his behavior as to lead the audience not only directly 
to his entrance and her own probing of him, but to 
the whole development that is to follow. These 
speeches must strike the actual note of tragedy. 

Two significant character contrasts should also be 
brought out. The first, \v^ the scene between Mrs. 
Chester and Janet, is made by the two v/omen, — the 
mother patiently, pathetically, enthusiastically blind 
and credulous in regard ^o her husband's wildest 
misrepresentations^ feeding on illusion ; the daughter 
driven by the need of truth before everything, v/itli 
steady vision seeing her father for precisely what he 
is, challenging both him and her lover. The second 
contrast is brought into the last scene by Norton's 
entrance. His manly, straightforward bearing, his 
clear-eyed courage in facing the facts throv/ into 
strong;er relief Chester's moral impotence. In say- 
ing, "When you do a fool thing, you've got to take 
your medicine," he sums up unconsciously but un- 
sparingly the older man's character, and states the 
whole point of the play. 



CHARACTERS 

Joseph Chester 
Emma Chester^ his zvife 
Janet Chester, his daughter 
Jack NorvTON, a roomer at the Chesters' 
Robert Bannistef.^ an eld friend of Joseph 
Chester 

First produced by the Community Theatre, Pottgh- 
keepsie, N. Y., June 3, 4, 10 and 11, 1921. 



9 



Scene. — The living room of an American home. By 
way of description, the correct adjective is 
"shabby-genteel/' The furniture is somezvhat 
sparse — four or five chairs, a reading table and 
an upright piano. There are no lamps; the light 
glares from the globes of an ornate chandelier 
in the middle of the ceiling. 

Time — The Present. In the Evening. 

Mrs. Chester and Janet occupy neighboring 
rockers. The former is a middle-aged woman 
zvith nondescript face and nondescript dress. 
She is sewing on a pair of trousers and a stack 
of additional ones lies beside her on the table ; 
they are new trousers, from all appearances, 
folded uniformly, as though they had just come 
from a factory. Janet also is saving on one of 
them. She is a young zvoman of about twenty- 
two years, zvith a bright, good-looking face. 
You mJght class her as an efficient stenographer 
or bookkeeper of a successful fi.rm. 

Mrs. Chester finishes the pair of trousers on 
which she has been working, and lays it on the 
table. 

^ Mrs. Chester. Another pair done. Guess I won't 
sit np for the men much longer. 

Janet. Oh, you'd better. You want to hear 
about the Lodge supper, don't you ? 

II 



12 BAD DEBTS 

Mrs. Chester. (After a moment, archly) I 
s'pose it's not entirely for your father you're sitting 
up, Janet. My, it's nice we've taken in a roomer 
daughter can enjoy. 

Janet. (With an air of candor) Yes, I admit it's 
Jack I want to see. (A door is heard closing in the 
hall zvithout.) 

Mrs. Chester. I guess this is them now. 

(Enter Jack Norton Left. He is a tall, rather 
lanky young man; and as is not surprising in 
the case of a tall, rather lanky young man, the 
fit of his suit is not all that can be desired. But 
his countenance is interesting, almost an attrac- 
tive one; it suggests, on the whole, a clever 
brain, and the mouth is humorous and a little 
whiinsical.) 

Jack. (Hat in hand, standing in the doorway be- 
tween the living room and hall) "Home, Sweet 
Home !" 

Janet. Hello, Jack. 

Mrs. Chester. Oh, is it you, Mr. Norton? 
Didn't you bring Joe back with you ? 

Jack. No, he said he had to transact some busi- 
ness with several of the Lodge, so I came on ahead. 

Mrs. Chester. (In an embarrassed, comically in- 
sincere voice, after looking at the other two covertly) 
Guess ril go out in the kitchen a minute. I — I left 
something out there. (Exit Right.) 

(Jack looks at her, grinning,) 

Jack. Think your mother realizes she v/as leav- 
ing us alone together? 

Janet. (Laughing) That was kind of obvious, 
wasn't it ? 



BAD DEBTS 13 

(Jack, a shadow falling over his face again, ad- 
vances into the room and stands beside Janet's 
chair, looking down at her.) 

Janet. So poor Jack had to walk home all by his 
lonesome. 

Jack. Beautiful stars to-night. Wish you'd been 
along, Janet. 

Janet. Wish I had, Jack. 

(They gaze at each other dreamily for a moment.) 

Jack. Janny ! (Reaches over and takes her 
hand.) It's hard to wait, isn't it? Let's just as soon 

as we can possibly make it — oh, I forgot (His 

..face has altered sharply.) 

Janet. Forgot? Forgot what? Jack, what has 
been the matter lately? 

Jack. (With exaggerated innocence) Matter? 
Why, nothing. 

Janet. Then why, just a minute ago 

Jack. (Violently, off his guard) Oh, if you knew 
how it hurts — talking about our love to-night! 

Janet. (In a frightened voice) Why, Jack ! 

Jack. There's something I can't — oh, shoot, for- 
get what I've been saying, Janny. 

Janet. (In a strained voice) Something you 
can't tell me, you were going to say. 

Jack. (Laying a firm hand on her shoulder) 
Look here, Janet, you know enough about my feel- 
ings to know it isn't that I'm cooling off. 

Janet. Well 

Jack. Say you do. 

Janet. (After looking at him for a minute) Yes, 
Jack, I do . . . But Jack, tell me. What is it? 

Jack. It's nothing — or — er — it's just that I've 
been thinking about things a lot the last couple of 
days, and — er — I just don't feel quite right about 



14 BAD DEBTS , 

marrying on so little ; sort of feel obligated to succeed 
before I ask a girl like you 

Janet. Jack, Fm not being taken in at all. You'd 
better tell me the real trouble. 

Jack. I tell you, Janny, that's all there is, this 
financial reason 

Janet. But why just the last couple of days 

Jack. (Embracing her suddenly) Oh, Janny 
how I want you! What a girl you are, anyway* 
Janny ! 

Janet. Jack! (Pushing him away after a mo- 
ment of yielding.) Jack! You act so intense anc 
funny. 

Jack. Funny ? 

Janet. Oh, tell me, Jack — what is it? 

Jack. Well, there is something, Janet. I can* 
tell you what it is now, but take my word for it, I— 
ril tell you soon — soon as possible. ■ 

Janet. That's a promise? 

Jack. Yes. (Kisses Janet rather stormily, the', 
wrenches himself away and starts toward the door. 
Guess I'll be going up now. (Returns and kisses he 
again, tenderly, with a lingering embrace.) Goo- 
night, Janet — my darling. (Exit Jack Left.) 

(Enter Mrs. Chester Right, soon after, first peep 
ing in cautiously to see if Jack is really gone.) 

Mrs. Chester. (Innocently) Oh, has Mr. Noi 
ton gone up ? «^< 

Janet. (Absently) Um 

Mrs. Chester. (After sewing in silence for a 
moment) Mr. Norton has nice ways around the 
house, hasn't he? 

Janet. Mother, tell me: have you ever heard 
Father talking to Jack about the kind of man he 
hoped his daughter'd marry? 



BAD DEBTS 15 

Mrs. Chester. Marry, Janet? Why, have you 
and Mr. Norton gone that far ? 

Janet. Yes, we're going to be married — I guess. 

Mrs. Chester. (Running over to kiss Janet, 
who receives the caress absenfmindedly) My little 
girl! You and Mr. Norton! Why, how lovely! 

Janet. I'm glad you're pleased. But, Mother, 
try and think; have you heard Father saying any- 
thing to Jack — ^you know what I mean — how he 
hoped when his daughter married, it would be to a 
man in the right social position — loyal to the family 
standards — you know the way he talks. 

Mrs. Chester. Why, no, I haven't heard any- 
thing — you oughtn't to talk that way about your 
father, Janet. 

Janet. Why, I'm just saying the things he'd be 
likely to say. You've been hearing Father's talk 
for twenty-iive years. You ought to know his line. 

Mrs. Chester. His line ? I'm sure I don't know 
what you're talking about. 

Janet. Don't you ? Well, telling Jack he had to 
"transact business with several of the men" ; and 
when he tells us about the supper, he'll call it the 
"banquet." And he'll act all the time as though he 
were just a little above the rest of the men. 

Mrs. Chester. Janet, you oughtn't to be talking 
so about your father. 

(Janet gets tip inipctuonsly, then sits down on the 
arm of her chair.) 

Mrs. Chester. (Indignantly) Your father's a 
good, upright man, and you ought to be proud 

Janet. Yes, he is good, in a lot of ways. (Slowly) 
Mother, have you ever thought that tliis peculiarity 
must have something kind of tragic at the bottom 
of it? 

Mrs. Chsstsk. "Peculiarity!" 



i6 BAD DEBTS 

Janet. (Arising and facing her mother) You 
know what I mean — this everlasting, life-long — 
putting up a bluff, even before his own family. 

Mrs. Chester. Why, Janet Chester, about your 
own father ! 

Janet. I don't care, I'm so dead tired of it all ! 
Ever since I can remember — why, when I was about 
six, Father was always talking about the land upon 
land he owned in Montana. We never saw the land, 
did we? — or the big business deals about to be put 
over, or the rich friends, or the — oh, Mother, why 
does he do it? 

Mrs. Chester. (Grandiosely) Janet, am I to 
understand that you're accusing your father of — of 
fibbing? 

Janet. Just call it bluffing; bluffing and bluff- 
ing, and pushing it so far as to snub a man like Jack 
— I think he must have. . . . Just to keep up a front, 
before the two people in the v»^orld v*'ho would sym- 
pathize most. 

Mrs. Chester. Sympathize ? What do you mean ? 
Your dad doesn't need sympathy, I guess. Why, 
just this morning he was saying how down at the 
plant they were hinting at him being let in on that 
new project — that's an honor right there 

Janet. Projects and projects, and honors and 
honors — but v\^e never see any results. 

Mrs. Chester. Your father's had plenty of won- 
derful successes he's told us about. 

Janet. Told us — y^s. Mother, if he'd only act 
square ! Just once I saw Father with his mask off. 

Mrs. Chester. "Mask"! 

Janet. It was that night I dragged Father out 
when Sothern and Marlowe came here in "Mac- 
beth" 

Mrs. Chester. Only time Father went to a show 
for years, and you've got to go and talk against his 
actions. 

Janet. There was a line where Macbeth says, 



BAD DEBTS i; 

"And if we fail?" and gives a funny- — wincing kind 
of look. It v/as the look of a man deathly afraid of 
failure. 

Mrs. Chester. Janet! Stop! (Wincina her- 
self.) 

Janet. Hm, he's made you afraid of the word, 
too. 

Mrs, Chester. The word 

Janet. I happened to look at Dad right after 
that speech and 

Mrs. Chester. Your father was just puttirg 
himself in it, so maybe he might have been a great 
actor. 

Janet. But if you could have seen Father's face ! 
There was something- about it 

Mrs. Chester. Your father isn't a — a — what 
you said ! 

Janet. And then, going home after, he v/as cock- 
sure again like he always is, talking fast like a man 
walks when he's afraid to look behind him.. 

Mrs. Chester. I i€{\ you he's not a — a failure! 

(Steps are heard on the porch, the outer door is heard 
to open and close.) 

Mrs. Chester. (Alarmed, in a loud whisper) Oh ! 
do you think he heard ? 

(Janet too looks a little concerned as Joseph Ches- 
ter enters Left.) 

Chester. (In the doorzvay, perfectly cheerful) 
Hello, folks. (The zvomen shozv relief.) 

(Chester is a perfectly ordinary looking man in 
most zvays, except for a pecul'ar alertness of 
counienance, an expression suggesting a mental 
state of chronic self-defense. "Plis general bear- 
ing, though his clothing is not far removed from 



i8 BAD DEBTS 

shahhiness, denotes refinement and a higher or- 
der of intelligence than that possessed by his 
tvife. His air is one of unusual assurance.) 

Chester. A thousand different things came up ; 
that's v/hy I've been so long getting- home. I always 
seem to get in deeper than anybody else around there. 
Of course, it's always that way with anybody used 
to organizing. 

Mrs. Chester. YouVe just a born leader, Joe, 
you know you are. 

Chester. Oh — — (Laughs deprecatorily hut 
complacently.) 

Mrs. Chester. From all I hear, every man in 
the Lodge looks up to you, 

Chester. Oh, it's only a small bunch. Still, it 
does represent quite an elem.ent; it's v/orth my time, 
all right. (His eye falls on the tarnished brass vase 
fidl of garden flowers on the table) I guess that 
vase has seen its day. I'm expecting any minute to 
be sent by the plant on a commission to New York, 
and I think when I'm there I'll take time to look 
around a little at bric-a-brac. Nothing more fas- 
cinatino-. 

Mrs. Chester. That'll be fine, Joe. . . . Well, 
v/as the supper nice? 

Chester. The banquet? Yes, yes, very good. 
Of course, not as large an afiair as the Manufac- 
turers' Club's and som.e of the others I used to take 
in when I had more tim.e. But I really don't care 
for such thing's an}'" more. 

Janet. But, Father, it w^ould be a way to meet 
those old friends you talk about. 

Chester. Hm, v/hat's that? . . , There's time 
enough after a man's shelved for him to look after 
his friends, my girl. Lord, how busy I am. now! 
Take to-morrow, for instance : I'm booked for three 



BAD DEBTS t9 

engagements at noon, when I ought to be eating my 
kinch. 

Mrs. Chester. Oh, is there some big deal on, 
Joe? Can*t we have some new paint on the house 
with the money? 

Chester. Certainly, certainly. If prices come 
down, that is; and I tell you, the only way to get 
them down is to lay off buying. We owe it to the 
poorer chaps — -even if we can aiford things ourselves. 
That's why I've left my money tied up. 

Mrs. Chester. Ever^^ tim.e I hear you say that, I 
think how fine it is. 

Janet, j ust where is the mioney tied up, Father ? 

Chester. Oh, it's a long list. And what do you 
know about such things, my girl? 

Janet. I've been a bookkeeper in a business house 
for four years now. 

Chester. Gracious, it doesn't seem that long since 
you left high school. (Takes to courding the trous- 
ers in the stack.) Kov/ man}^ does the factory want 
this week, Mother? 

Mrs. Chester. As many as I can do, as usual. 

Chester. Makes a pleasant little occupation for 
your hands, doesn't it? And it's in line with my 
theory that even people of ample means should share 
the burden of the world's labor. Vva proud to have 
this stack of work on my tahje. 

Mrs. Chester. And maybe we can get a phono- 
graph off them in a couple of months more. 

(Pause.) 

Janet. Father? 

Chester. "Yes, my darling daughter." 

Janet. Have you, by any chance, some impressive 
ideas on the kind of man I ought to marry? 

Chester. Why, yes, of course. In fact, I must 
tell you X have high ambitions for you ; it seems to 



20 BAD DEBTS 

me a daughter of mine ought to make a success of 
her life. 

Janet. Ever say anything of the sort to Jack Nor- 
ton? 

Mrs. Chester. They're engaged to be married, 
Joe, think of that — Janet and Mr. Norton. 

Chester. Not precisely engaged, I think, until 
my consent has been obtained. 

Janet. Won't you answer ni}^ question, Father? 

Chester. Your question? Oh, yes, I remember. 
No, I've never talked to Jack on the subject. Never 
imagined it came so close home. 

Janet. Well, what's v/orrying Jack, theft? 

Chester. Worrying, is he? Poor devil. (Re- 
gaining himself) Oh — er — when's the great event 
to take place? 

Janet. (Somewhat impetuously) Oh, I don't 
know! There's some sort of obstacle now — -Jack 
won't tell me what. He says it's just that he feels 
"obligated to succeed" before he marries me. 

Chester. (Absently) ''Obligated to succeed." 
That's quite a combination of words 

Mrs. Chester. Oh, Mr. Norton'll be a success, 
all right. I het he'll put through some big invention 
one of these days. You think it's fine, don't you, 
Joe? — about him and Janet? 

Chester. (Musingly) It would be a strange 
trick of fate, wouldn't it, if a daughter of mJnc should 
marry a poor mechanic — no particular family con- 
nections — — 

_ Janet. (Angrily) I don't think we are in a po- 
sition to be fastidious about such things. 

Mrs. Chester. (Hurriedly) She's just talking, 
Joe. 

Janet. No, — (Chester glances at her sharply 
and looks azvay) — I should think anybody in this 
family would be tired of doing that! 



BAD DEBTS :2l 

Chestsr. I'm afraid I don't follow you. Mother, 
— er— have you seen 

Janet. Yes, you do, Father, you follow me per- 
fectly v/ell. Oh, I've just got to talk about it. 

Chester. Talk about — what? 

Janet. This life-long, silly old game 

Cue ster . Ga m e ? 

Janet. This game of deception ! I've been 
brought up on misrepresentation. 

Chester. You mean I'm a liar? (Chester's 
hand grasps the edge of the table until his knuckles 
are ivJiiie, hut his face is still nonchalant.) 

Janet. No, just a — a — bluiter. 

Chester. (In a strained voice) A bluffer ? 

Janet. Oh, Father, I hate like everything to say 
it, but I'm so dead tired of it all ! 

Chester. (Strangely) Fo« are "tired of it all"? 

Janet. Don't you think we'd understand, Mother 
and I? Why can't you be game like other men 
who're not quite as successful as they might have 
been? Tliere's nothing criminal about failure 

Chester. (Face suddenly distorted, almost 
shrieking) Hold that back! For God's sake, stop 
quick ! 

(The three look at each other aghast. Then the ring 
of the doorbell snaps the tension. It is Janet 
who goes out into the hall to open the door.) 

Mrs. Chester. Oh, do you 'spose it's a caller? 
So late as this? (Chester shakes himself together, 
visibly resuming his cocksure air. Re-enter Janet, j 

Janet. It's a gentleman v/ants to see you, Father 
— Mr. Robert Banr:ister. 

(Chester starts violently.) 



22 BAD DEBTS 

Chester. Oh ! well, bring him in. (Exit Janet. j 

(Chester looks about the room with an air of com- 
sternation, then at his zvife.) 

Mrs. Chester. (Noticing his concern) Guess 
Fd better go out in the dining room. I'm just in my 
house-dress. (Exit Right.) 

Chester. Well — if you want to. 

(Chester picks up the stack of trousers and thrusts 
them onto the lozver shelf of the table, which is 
shadowed. Re-enter Janet with Robert Ban- 
nister; judged from appearances, the typical 
wealthy and zvell-fed clubman. His clothes con- 
trast sharply with Chester's. He zvalks for- 
ward quickly and grasps the tatter's hand with 
a hearty "Joe, old boyT ) 

Chester. Why, Bob, of all people ! Oh — let me 
present my daughter, Janet. This is Mr. Robert 
Bannister, an ol-'^' college chum of mine, from Pitts- 
burgh. 

Janet. How do you do, Mr. Bannister? 

Bannister. Joe Chester's daughter! This is a 
pleasure. You don't look much like him — well, 
maybe just a little bit 

Janet. People say there*s a resemblance. 

Bannister. Well, it's a pretty good old thing to 
resemble. (Clapping Chester on the shoulder.) 

Janet. You haven't seen each other for a long 
time? 

Bannister. Not for years — ^hm, whose fault is 
it, Joe? 

Chester. I admit the charge! 

Janet. Reminiscences are in order, I s*pose. And 
since I can't very well join in — g^ood evening, Mr. 



BAD DEBTS 23 

Bannister. It's been so nice to meet one of Father's 
old friends. (Exit Right.) 

Bannister. That's a nice-looking girl of yours, 
Chester. 

Chester. Yes, isn't she? Got one yourself, have 
you, Bob? 

Bannister. No, no children. But tell me about 
yourself. Lord, Joe, how many times I've wanted 
to look you up ! But you've seemed so damned in- 
different about keeping up the connection. 

Chester. Why . . . 

Bannister. And after all our Damon and Pythias 
line in college — ^you and Blair and I. What kas been 
the matter? You just let yourself drop out of sight 
after about five years. 

Chester. Just because I've been too busy to live, 
Bob. It's been the crowded hour. You know, if I 
were given eight lives to live, I'd put in an order for 
seven of them as — vv^ell, say a small town druggist. 
Ore would have so much more time for one's friends. 
(Akvays speaking rapidly.) 

Bannister. Do you still come to Pittsburgh of- 
ten ? I used to run across you every now and then : 
but you never made any effort to com.e and see me. 

Chester. Always there on important business, 
Bob, and always in a mad rush. 

Bannister. That's been all, really? Well, this 
time I couldn't resist looking you up. What do you 
think ? I've run across an article in an English scien- 
tific magazine about Blair Kenfield! 

Chester. Blair Kenfield! 

Bannister. Where is that clipping, anyway? 
(Fumbling in his pocket.) Thought I put it in here. 
Well, accordi*"g to this article, Blair d^*d a really big 
thing — even in his short Hf-^t-'me — think of it! He 
must have been working on it his last summer, when 
you and he were exper-'m-'^nting in Europe — five 
years after college, wasn't it? . . . Where is that 



24 BAD DEBTS 

thing, anyway ? ... It was something in the inven- 
tion line. Oh, shoot! (Gives up search.) 

Chester. (Hurriedly and a little nervously) Oh, 
never mind, Bob, I'll look it up myself. Don't — 
don't tell me about it. I could probably understand 
it better if I read it. . . . Something Blair achieved 
— er — well. Fm glad of it if it brought you here, 
Bob. Er — did you find the house all right? This 
isn't our regular house, you knov/. 

Bannister. (Glancing around) Oh, isn't it? 

Chester. Heavens, no, I should hope not. We're 
just tarrying here since — we got back from abroad 
last — while — while our new place is being built. The 
doctor suggested this jumping off place — because he 
thought a suburb was best on account of my wife's 
health. This — this was the only house we could get. 
Oh, yes, also the agent made a drastic mistake 

Bannister. (Laughing) Just one thing added 
to another, wasn't it? 

Chester. Well, we are going to get another as 
soon as possible. Can't stand this hole long. 

Bannister. But it's comfortable enough for a 
while — and you're settled as though you've been here 
since the year i. 

Chester. Oh, yes ; gets on my nerves, though. 
The way we were raised has made us require the 
best all along the line, hasn't it? . . . This — this fur- 
niture isn't ours ; that we stored for the time being. 
We — we got this house already furnished. Atrocious 
stuff, isn't it? 

Bannister. Well, of course, it doesn't leave any 
room for one's personal tastes. But I suppose you 
can add some of the smaller articles. 

Chester. ^ Why — er — yes. But we haven't both- 
ered much, it's all so temporary. (His eye lighting 
on the vase on the table) That's a little antique I 
picked up — Vienna, I think it was. 

Bannister. Still have a failing for antiques, Joe? 



BAD DEBTS 25 

Chester. Yes ; as you see, there are — quite a few 
in this room. But Bob, let's talk about you. How 
did Hfe treat you, anyway? 

Bannister. Oh, nothing exciting to tell. I got 
treated whiter than most, but I guess it was just 
luck. 

Chester. Still connected with the bar? 

Bannister. I'm mostly a corporation lawyer now. 
I lieard that was where the big m.oney came in, and 
went to it. Or rather, my wife heard. Your wife, 
Joe — do you know, I've never met her. Fancy that, 
never met Joe Chester's wife ! After all our college- 
boy discussions on women and the kind we were 
going to marry. We alvv^ays said you'd do some- 
thing spectacular, Chester. You v/ere such a darned 
promising young thing. 

Chester. (Laughing in a forced zvay) Why — 
I'm sorry you can't meet my wife, but she's — in New 
York right now, shopping — been gone about a week. 

Bannister. Shopping — that's mine ail over; de- 
votes her life to it. 

Chester. I suppose most wom.en do, in our class. 

(Pause.) 

Bannister. What's your line of work nov/, Joe? 

Chester. (Glibly) Engineering expert, chiefly 
consultation work in national projects. 

Bannister. What became of the inventing pas- 
sion? 

Chester. I — I didn't go on with that. 

Bannister. I always thought you would. 

Chester. No, not enough money in it. I sup- 
pose I'm. mercenary, but it's the Vv^ay you and I were 
brought up, Bob. . . . Now I happen to know one 
young investor who sf^ems to be able to i^o at it in 
an unworldlv sp^'rit. Krn. he's in an awful fix now, 
poor kid. (Suddenly eyes Bannister calculatingly) 



36 BAD DEBTS 

He couldn't afford himself to pay for a lawyer of 
your rank — and he's so sensitive I couldn't very well 
help him — I've given him a good deal of financial 
aid already. Now, perhaps, if you could knock down 
your rates some — Bob, I wisli you could. 

Bannister. Why, sure, I will. 

Chester. Will you really? It's a youngster I've 
been helping along; I hold that it's up to us fellows 
to help others to the top now, don't you? Well, this 
boy's been doing some inventing, really deucedly 
clever stuff— lot of promise. 

Bannister. I see, I'm to be a patent lawyer. 

Chester. No, it's worse than that. What he may 
need any day now is a criminal lawyer. 

Bannister. Criminal? Lord, that's bad! I'll 
certainly do my best for him. What's his name, by 
the way? 

Chester. His name is Norton — ^Jack Norton. 

Bannister. His address? 

Chester. Er — I don't know exactly. I'll see him 
to-morrow. 

Bannister. Now, tell me — what's the case? 

Chester. Dov/n at the plant — the plant where he 
works, there's a rather greedy, unscrupulous admin- 
istration. There was some mix-up about one of his 
patents-to-be, and when it got lost in the shuffle, he 
-suspected the Company's safes. Poor chap, he was 
about desperate — he'd just about thought the inven- 
tion through. 

Bannister. So he v/ent in the dead of night to 
sv/ipe them back. 

Chester. Exactly, last night it was. But he got 
the wrong papers, after all. 

Bannister. What tough luck! 

Chester. And what's more, he shot the guard in 
the attempt. 

Bannister. You don't mean it ! 

Chester. He'd gone armed in self-defense, and 



BAD DEBTS 27 

when he ran up against the guard, he lost his head — 
Lord, Norton's the coolest fellow alive, too — and 
(snaps his fingers) — he shot. 

Bannister. Does the guard know who it was? 

Chester. The guard knows a lot less than that 
now. He v/as shot dead. 

Bannister. Any clues? 

Chester. I wouldn't be surprised. Norton thinks 
there are. 

Bannister. How do you happen to know about 
it? 

Chester. He hinted to me once about going after 
the papers, and when I heard about this, I asked him 
if it was he, and he owned up. 

Bannister. Has he skipped town? 

Chester. No, that would make suspicion all the 
stronger. He's just biding his time. 

Bannister. Jove, but he must be jumpy! 

Chester. Not Norton. He's the cool kind. Of 
course, you can see he has something on his mind. 

Bannister. Well, if he's caught and needs a 
lawyer, be sure and call on me. 

Chester. You're a regular fellow. Bob. You un- 
derstand about it, don't you ? Norton's being sensi- 
tive about accepting so much from me? 

Bannister. Sure thing. Any — er — any time you 
want any kind of favor — oh, shoot, I'm awkward 
about these things — what I mean is, if I can ever 
give you a lift in any vv^ay — you know I've far more 
than my share and all that sort of thing 

Chester. (Qtiickly) Why, I'm sure it's kind of 
you, but why offer anything to me? 

Bannister. Oh, well, I thought — I didn't know 
anything about your affairs or anything 

Chester. (Carefully) Oh, I guess I've been 
what they call a success. 

Bannister. Of course, of course. . . . Success. 
. . . Remember, Joe, the night before we left college, 



2S BAD DEBTS 

how v/e vowed, you and Blair and I, that we'd give 
the world three successful men? 

Chester. (In a low voice) Yes, I do. 

Bannister. Poor Blair, who thought he'd go so 
soon? I guess if he'd survived he would have lived 
up to his end of the vow. 

Chester. (Suddenly) Oh, I'm not so sure about 
that. 

Bannister. What? 

Chester. Blair and I were in the same line of 
work, you know. I had a pretty good opportunity 
to probe him. I used to wonder about him a lot — 
especially that last summ.er, when we were experi- 
menting together in Europe. As an inventor he had 
one asset, m^ental nimbleness. But he lacked con- 
centration and synthetic power — which is fatal. 

Bannister. Why, I always thought he was a sec- 
ond Edison in the bud. You know, with apologies 
to present company, I sort of thought Blair v/as the 
very one of the three of us who should have lived. 

Chester. (A little violently) No, Bannister, I 
tell you you're wrong. Blair Keniield would have 
been a failure. 

Bannister. Why, Chester. Now, maybe if you 

could have seen that article (Fimihling in his 

pockets again.) Oh, here 'tis ! Why the deuce did 
I put it in there? 

Chester. (Waving it aside) Oh, never mind. 
Bannister. 

Bannister. (Reads aloud, Chester glances at 
him from time to time, zvith a growing dread in his 
face.) ''It has been recently discovered that the sub- 
marine model used in the war was for the most part 
the invention of a man who died almost a quarter of 
a century ago, before receiving any laurels for his 
achievement. His plans marked the transition from 
the original rude models, the Goiihet I and others. 
After his death, they were used in the construction 



BAD DEBTS 29 

of The Intelligent Fish, the first real submarine. It 
has been only recently that the right name has been 
attached to the plan, the name of Blair Kenfield, an 
American." (Bannister continues to look at the 
article; he does not notice Chester, whose face, as 
he has read, has become more and more agitated. 
Chester has arisen slo-wly from his chair and walked 
a little unsteadily across the floor. He stands behind 
Bannister J 

Bannister. Well! Don't you think now that 
Blair would have succeeded ? 

(No reply from Chester. Bannister looks around 

at him.) 

Chester. (In measured accents) The Intelligent 
Fish, Blair's! 

Bannister. Why, v/liat's the matter? 

Chester. (With a visible effort) Yes, Bannister, 
Blair would have succeeded. . . . Blair's invention. 
The first submarine ! But who thought he had it in 
him? (Leans heavily against the table.) 

Bannister. (Alarmed) Say, Chester! 

Chester. (Suddenly aware of him) Oh, hello, 
Bob. I think you guessed it before, Bob. / am a 
failure. 

Bannister. Oh, now, old boy 

Chester. (Abandoncdly) A failure, do you hear 
me, failure! Lord, how long I've been afraid to say 
the word ! Failure, failure. . . . The way I've 
bluflfed you, Bannister. This house — it's the only 
one I've got — only one I'll ever have! Tem.porary! 
I've been living here twenty years. This furniture 
— it's mine and it's all I have. (Picks up the vase 
from the table.) An antique! Not antique, just 
plain old ! (Suddenly leans dozvn and pulls out the 
stack of trousers.) And do you see these, Bannis- 
ter? They're trousers from a factory — my wife puts 



50 BAD DEBTS 

finishing touches on them — gets a lot every week, 
and slaves over them. Hm — my wife! In New 
York ! She's out in the dining-room, Bannister, be- 
cause I was ashamed to have you see her. 

Bannister. Chester ! For Heaven's sake ! 

Chester. No, I didn't do anything '''spectacular** 
in the marriage line. Do you know how I chose my 
wife, Bannister? I chose one who'd make me feel 
superior in my ov/n home- — if it turned out that I'd 
feel inferior everywhere else. She caters to my ego- 
tism, she really thinks I'm a success. (Bursts into 
abandoned laughter.) 

Bannister. Man, you're like a maniac! 

Chester. Maniac? I shall be one if I have to go 
on bluffing much more. (Si7tks into a chair and lets 
his head sink into his arms.) 

Bannister. (Deeply moved) My poor old boy ! 

Chester. (Whispering to himself) Blair Ken- 
field ! 

Bannister. What has Blair Keriiield got to do 
with it? 

(Jack Norton appears In the door, wearing an over- 
coat and carrying his hat in Jus hand. Starts to 
enter, then stops, seeing Bannister.J 

Jack. Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt, 
Chester. (Jerking to an upright position) You, 
Norton? S'all right. Come on. I w^as just saying 
I was a failure, Norton. You never heard that word 
before in this house, did you? . . . Come on in, I 
say. Oh — Mr. Bannister's just the person you want. 
He's a lawyer. I've told him all about you. (To 
Bannister) This is Norton. Told you I didn't 
know his address. It's my own, do you see? He's 
a roomer. My wife and daughter get every stitch 
of their clothes on the money. 

Jack. Why, I don't understand— but it doesn't 



BAD DEBTS $i 

matter. I just dropped in to tell you it's all up. I 
wish you'd break it to Janet. (Showing emotion) 
I — I couldn't do it myself. 

Chester. All up ? 

Tack. Yep. I found out to-day that they're wise, 
and they're sending a deputy to-night. There's a 
pretext that it's just an examination, but I know what 
to expect. (Indicating coat and hat) I'm all ready, 
as you see. 

Bannister. Good heavens, man, why don't you 
skip? 

Jack. I couldn't skip for the rest of my life. 
They'd catch me sometime anyway ; sometime when 
it would mean even more to Janet. 

Chester. It isn't right, Norton. 

Jack. Oh, I don't know. When you do a fool 
thing, you've got to take your medicine. I'll see you 
again, I suppose. Not Janet — I couldn't stand that. 
(Starts to leave the room.) 

Chester. (Leaping up and catching him by the 
arm) Wait. ... I wonder ... I think . . . 

Jack. Why . . . 

Chester. Norton, you're just the man I want. 

Jack. What? 

Chester. (Elaborately and persuasively ) I hap- 
pen to want very much to be discommoded of my 
life. Nov/, suppose you give me the papers, and I'll 
go to the sheriff with them. They'll think it was I 
that tackled the safe. And no one could prove it 
wasn't. 

Jack. Man, what are you talking about? 

Chester. Just give me those papers, Norton 
(With sudden vehemence.) 

Jack. Why 

Chester. You've got to let me. 

Jack. Why on earth? 

Chester. Because I want t<ig 



32 BAD DEBTS 

Jack. You want to? But what difference does 
that make, anyway? I did it. 

Chester. You're a younger man. You've got 
your life before you. 

Jack. (Wincing) IVe thrown it away. 

Chester. But there's Janet. 

Jack. (Suddenly moved) Janet . . . (Turns 
away from both men.) 

Chester. (Insistently) Let me have them ! 

Jack. (Pulls himself together) Why, really, I 
thank you a thousand times, but of course I couldn't 
think of it. 

Chester. For God's sake, wait a minute, man! 
I've got to tell you. . . . You'll see it differently 
then. 

Jack. Tell me v/hat? Nothing you could tell me 
could make me accept such a sacrifice. 

Chester. Listen, Jack, that's all I ask. 

(Arrested by his tone, Jack sits down on the edge 
of the table.) 

Chester. (Turning to BannisterJ You never 
knew much about Blair Kenfield's death, did you, 
Bob? 

Bannister. Why, no ; just what everybody knew 
— that he was in a submarine wreck in Europe. 

Chester. Well, I do. ... I happen to know 
more than most. . . . You know, Blair and I were 
doing a great deal of actual navigation in submarines 
that summer. . . . Well, one day, Blair was invited 
to dive in a two-man cigar which a — a — certain man 
was trying out for an English corporation. You 
know how unreliable the boats were in those days. 
Well, when they trimmed down somewhere in the 
middle of the Mediterranean, the motor got a jar 
and refused to start- up. 



BAD DEBTS 33 

Bannister. Yes, and never did start up — we 
knew that much. 

Chester. This — this man in charge of the boat 
had been careless about equipment and provided 
only one diver's suit — only way to get to the surface 
in those days. The tv/o sat down to figure it out 

Jack. Figure it out? Why, of course it v/as up 
to the fellow in charge to give up his life. 

Chester. (Eying him absently) The two sat 
down to figure it out. And this fellow said to Blair, 
"Listen, I see nothing in this emotion-wrought sac- 
rifice business. My god is expediency." Blair sig- 
nified approval and told him to go on. 

Bannister. That was like Blair. 

Chester. Blair told him to go on. "Now, the 
point is," said this other m.an, "it seems to me in a 
case like this the man who should take the diverts 
suit is the one likely to do the most for the world, 
be the most successful." "Well, I guess you're the 
one," Blair said right away. You know he had never 
put a single thing across. 

Bannister. But so promising. 

Chester. The other was just as much so — and 
he had had results. So they doped it out that he 
was the one to live. 

Jack. The cheat. 

Chester. (Slozvly) No, he wasn't a cheat. 
That's the extraordinary thing. You won't believe 
it — but he was sincere ; a fool, but Lord ! how sin- 
cere. 

Bannister. And so 

Chester. And so he put on the diver's suit and 
stood promising Blair he — he'd be worthy of the 
privilege. (Chester breaks ojf and stares off info 
space, then shakes himself.) They opened the hatch 
and he sailed up in his big rubber bubble to crack 
through the roof of the ocean, and the water rushed 
in on Blair. 



J4 BAD DEBTS 

(Bannister has risen and shows strong emotion. 
Norton, too, is frozvning.) 

Bannister. The damned scoundrel! How did 
he knov/ he'd be more successful ? I'll bet anything 
he didn't come up to what Blair would have ! If he 
could have seen that article— 

Chester. (In a lozu voice) He didn't come up 
to what Blair would have. He has seen that ar- 
ticle ! 

Jack. You know the man? 

Chester. Almost, by this time. It was myself. 

Bannister. You, Joe? 

Jack. You did a thing like that? 

Chester. (In a strange gesture, raising his arms 
above his head, like a man exhausted, tJien dropping 
them wearily) That's why I've been afraid to face 
failure. (Pause, then continues in a zveary, sing- 
song voice) That's why I've been out of breath in 
the very dread of hearing the word. Do you know 
why I've bluffed ? Just trying to fool myself. That's 
why I've bluffed and bluffed and bluffed, a lifetime 
of bluffing and blufimg — Lord, how dead I am! 
Afraid to own I'd failed because I was bound to 
Blair Kenfield to succeed. (Suddenly zvheels about 
and faces Jack_, and as he does so a look of positive 
exultation lights his face.) And now I can stop — 
at last. 

Jack. You mean — ■ — 

Chester. You're going to give me a way out. 

Jack. No ! 

Chester. Give me those papers. (Makes a move 
tozvard Jack.J 

Jack. Hold on a minute. 

Chester. Man, you've got to give me this chance. 

Jack. (Holding him off) You say you'd be hap- 
pier, Chester? 

Chester. I'd be happy. (With violence) Look 



BAD DEBTS 35 

the situation in the face, man. We're in another 
submarine. Two men and one life between them. 
Who'll get the life? The one who has the most use 
for it. 

Jack. (Slowly) Perhaps you're right. 

Chester. Of course, I'm right. Now, who has 
the most use for it? Let's figure it out. You on 
one side — young, promising, loved by a splendid 
girl ; I, on the other, older, too late to succeed — and 
in debt, one life. Oh, what's the use of talking? 
You want to live, I want to die. 

Jack. It's really been a hell on earth? 

Chester. A hell on earth. Every hour since I 
first saw I wasn't going to get there. Oh, end it for 
me, for God's sake, end it for me ! 

Jack. But if / fail? 

Chester. You won't. You'll live, and do the 
things I failed to do — the inventions I failed to in- 
vent 

Jack. You can't be sure. 

Bannister. Norton, I almost think it would be 
the kind thing and the expedient thing 

(The doorbell rings.) 

Chester. There's the deputy now! Hand those 
over! (Holds out his hand.) 

(Jack slowly begins to take the papers front his 

pocket.) 

Jack. Well '- (Suddenly his eyes focus more 

exactly on Chester, and cramming the papers back 
into his pockets) Oh, God, I can't! Be another hell 
on earth ! Look at you ! 

Chester. (Stepping back and dropping head) 
Yes, look at me. 



3^ BAD DEBTS 

Jack. You can't throw it off on me! No sir' 
(Humes out of the door. Bannister follows him j 
iiANNiSTER. How about lawyers ? 

(Jack is saying to the deputy, "Yes, this is Norton " 
as they slam the outside door. Chester leans 
exhaustedly against the table. Enter Mrs. 
Chester, Right. Trudges in and places her 
sewing-hasket again on the table.) 

Chester. You heard- 



Mrs Chester. Yes, I heard the door shut— I 
knew he d gone. You made a lot of noise for two 
men. Who was he, anyway? 

Chester ^ (With his original glibness) An influ- 
ential old friend of mine. Hasn't shown up for a 
longtime. Big deal he has on. BMt innny-^(With 
a complacent laugh)~he seemed to think he needed 
me when it came to putting it through. 



CURTAIN 






i^'Oy 



■ LIBRARY OF 

lilllilililllill 
018 39 



Vassar Series of 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

liiiiiiiiiiia 

018 39 4 159 8 ^ 



SALLIE FOR KEEPS 

Play in 1 act by Frances M. Jackson. 4 males. 1 
female. Modern costumes. 1 interior. Plays 46 min- 
utes. 

Double personalities are always interesting and often 
dramatic, but what of a Triple personality? That is the 
principal character in "SALLIE FOR KEEPS" a viva- 
cious comedy, offering marvelous opportunities to a 
bright young actress. 

In the Vassar Series of plays, with notes on stag- 
ins and acting. Price, 35 centn. 



THE STORE 



A play in 1 act by Elizabeth Kellam. 3 males, 3 fe- 
males. Modern Costumes. 1 interior. Plays 50 min- 
utes. 

A cleverly drawn picture of six human beings, the 
most ambitious of which struggle to free themselves 
from the eternal drudgery of everyday existence. Splen- 
did character portrayal. 

In the Vassar Series of Plays with notes on staging 
and costumes. Pricet 36 centn. 

MASKS AND MEN 

Play in 1 act by Sarah H'umason. 8 males (4 soldiers), 

1 female. 1 interior. 18th century costumes. Plays 
50 minutes. 

A clever little play of intrigue and adventure, through 
which the guiding hand of a woman conducts a thrill- 
ing plot. 

In the Vassar Series of Plays with notes on costumes 
and staging. Price* 35 centn. 

BAD DEBTS 

Drama in 1 act by Margaret Searle. 3 males, 2 females. 
1 interior. Modern costumes. Plays 45 minutes. 

A strong little domestic drama of modern American 
middle class life. Will appeal especially to advanced 
amateurs, college groups and little theatres. 

In the Vassar Series of Plays with notes on costumes 
and staging. Price, 35 centa. 

The Lighting of the Christmas Tree 

Play in 1 act, adapted from a story of Selma Lagelot 
by Josephine Palmer and Annie L. Thorp. 5 males, 2 
females. Modern Swedish peasant costumes. 1 interior. 
Plays 45 minutes. 

A beautiful little legendary play, based upon the fam- 
ou.s Swedish novelist's story, "THE CHRISTMAS GUEST." 
A touchingly beautiful play. 

Tn the Vassar series of plays, with notes on costumes 
' aging. Price, 35 cents. 



